Into the den
by Jlocked
Summary: When a case takes Sherlock into unfamiliar territory, it is a good thing that he has Jim at his side. (Warning: things do get a little intense) ((thanks to lonelyheroofbakerstreet for the prompt, the villain and Sherlock in the first chapter))
1. Chapter 1

**Into the Den**

Jim was feeling exceptionally bored, so when his phone rang he almost launched himself across his desk to get it. When he recognised the number, he took his time to calm down and then answered nonchalantly.

"Honey. So glad you called."

"I want you to go with me to a sex club," came the curt answer.

Jim snorted.

"Go where?"

"A sex club," there was a sigh at the other end. "John won't do it."

"Oh honey. I thought you'd never ask."

...

Sherlock was waiting outside a building that at first glance most of all resembled a fancy hotel, except there was no name or any other kind of sign. He was wearing one of his bests suits underneath the long coat and he was tapping his foot impatiently. Finally a large black car with tinted windows pulled to the curb and a happy, sharply dressed Jim jumped out. As Jim reached up to kiss his cheek, Sherlock chuckled.

"Alright, don't get too excited. It's for a case."

Jim pouted at him, making him laugh.

"But I'm sure we can find time to have some fun along the way."

Jim grinned at him. "As long as I'm promised fun..."

Sherlock put an arm around his shoulder and let him to the door. He pressed the intercom button, gave the password and then, as it clicked open, held the door for Jim. "After you, sweetheart."

Jim beamed at him and went inside.

…

After checking their coats at the wardrobe, they entered what looked like a restaurant, except no one was eating anything more substantial than caviar or chocolate covered strawberries. There certainly was a lot of champagne being consumed by the elegantly dressed couples or groups of people sitting around. Many gave both men an appraising look as they entered.

Jim spotted a middle-aged couple across the room, smiled and waved. Both of them waved back and the man beckoned. Jim shrugged and shook his head with an apologetic pout. Sherlock glared at him.

"What was that about?"

Jim smiled at him, his eyes round and innocent in that not-too-convincing way of his. "Oh, nothing." He took Sherlock's arm and let him through the room. "I don't know about you, but I'm not really hungry."

Sherlock chuckled letting himself be led to a set of stairs leading up. They entered a long, dimly lit hall, lined with door-less rooms with large soft sofas. In many of them small groups of people were going at it in various stages of undress. Sherlock looked for a man matching the description he'd gotten from the doorman at a similar club. Jim was, apparently looking for something else.

Suddenly he let go of Sherlock's arm and darted into a room in which two women were more or less crawling all over a very young man. Jim tapped one of the girls on the shoulder and she looked up. Recognising him she smiled brightly, and pulled him down by his tie to kiss him passionately. The other girl looked up and after a minute pushed her away so she could get at Jim. When he finally managed to tear himself loose, he whispered something, which made both the girls giggle and glance at Sherlock. With a small wave he left them and returned with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he watched him. "Are you trying to make me jealous."

Jim laughed. "We're in a sex club, aren't we supposed to interact? Anyway, they were just some old friends, and I didn't want to be impolite and ignore them." He smiled at the girls who giggled again and waved."

Sherlock huffed beginning to form some suspicions that had absolutely nothing to do with the current case. He pushed them to the back of his mind. Wrapping an arm around Jim's shoulder he led him down the hallway. Whispering in his ear, he gave him a quick summary of the case.

"The man we're looking for is 6'4'', fit, has long black hair and grey eyes. He targets couples at places like this."

Jim giggled excitedly. "So we're a real couple tonight. I like that."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at this. Honestly, he didn't know what they were. "Tonight, yes," he answered cautiously.

No one in the small rooms matched the description so they ascended to the next level, a large open area with scattered sofas, padded platforms and groups of chairs. Some people were having sex, others just watching.

It only took Sherlock ten seconds to spot their target. He was standing by the wall, arms furled across his chest, scanning the room. His eyes flashed quickly past the single watchers and the larger groups, lingering on the few couples.

"That's him," Sherlock whispered in Jim's ear as he grabbed him and pushed him up against a wall. Then he attacked his neck, licking and kissing it.

Jim glanced at the man over Sherlock's shoulder. "Ooh... he's cute."

Sherlock sighed. "He's also, probably, a psychotic killer."

"So?" Jim crooned in his ear. "Psychotic killers can be cute..."

Sherlock snorted. "Good point." He shivered as Jim ran his fingertips up his back. "Has he noticed us?"

Jim checked. "He's watching."

"Good. Here's what he does: he invites a couple to join him in a private room, he has his fun with them and then when they climax, he kills them."

Jim nodded, a little breathlessly. "I can relate to that," he said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We're here to catch him, not admire his work. Now why don't you put those big doe eyes of yours to good use and get him interested."

"Quite right," Jim chuckled. "Just give me a second." He let his eyes drift till they caught the man's and let them widen as if in surprise at being watched. He held the man's gaze for a couple of seconds, then let his eyes slide out of focus and gasped as if in response to whatever Sherlock was doing to his neck. As he refocused on the man, he had to suppress a smirk.

"Done," he whispered in Sherlock's ear.

"You're brilliant," Sherlock answered, and then Jim was dragged from his arms.

With a hand under his chin, the tall stranger forced Jim's head back, so he could kiss him hungrily. Jim's arms flailed a little, and Sherlock had to suppress a laugh. Then he was grabbed by the collar and pulled forward, finding himself the subject of a very insistent kiss. Before he had really grasped the situation, he felt Jim's lips on his throat and relaxed.

When the man finally let Sherlock go, he laid his arms across their shoulders, pulling them along. "Care to join me?" he asked with a wicked grin.

Sherlock merely nodded, but Jim crooned: "Of course we do, sweetheart."

The man let them down another hall lined with doors. He opened one and shoved them gently inside. He followed and locked the door with a wicked grin.

Sherlock scanned the room quickly. There was a large bed, partly covered with pillows. A small dresser with drawers stood beside it. Everything was kept in purple and silver. He noted possible hiding places for a knife before turning back to the man, who was again kissing Jim, a lot more possessively than Sherlock cared for. He especially did not like the little familiar whimpering sounds Jim were making as he surrendered completely.

Sherlock strode over and standing behind the tall man, started caressing his back and chest, discretely checking for a concealed weapon. He wasn't surprised when he didn't find one though. If this man got intimate with his victims first, hiding the weapon on himself wouldn't be very practical. So it had to be somewhere in the room.

Jim pulled back to catch his breath. He smiled brightly. "Hello handsome," he panted. "I'm Jim."

The man smiled. "So nice to meet you Jim. I'm Julien."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot upwards. The man was actually telling the truth. But then again, why not? He didn't expect either of them to live to tell on him.

He turned his head to look at Sherlock behind him. "You two are quite adventurous aren't you? I like that. Most couples are shy, afraid to lose themselves in the game."

"Well," Sherlock said as he started sliding Julien's jacket off his shoulders. "We're not most couples." Then he leaned up to suck on the man's earlobe as he reached around and started opening the top buttons of his shirt.

Jim started on the bottom ones. "And you," he said appraisingly, "are absolutely delicious. How can anyone say no to that?"

Sherlock smirked at him over Julien's shoulder, and Jim beamed back, before he was once again pulled into a hungry kiss. Sherlock started tugging Julien's shirt off, probably a little too forcefully, but the man didn't seem to mind. Then he slid his hands around his waist and started opening his trousers. A rough hand shot up, grabbed his neck and pulled his head forward, forcing him to witness up close how his lover was being snogged senseless.

Angrily, he slid his hand down Julien's pants, grabbed his cock and tugged at it hard. Julien gasped and released Jim who instantly dropped to his knees, staring fascinated. "Oh, let me see." He tugged Julien's trousers and pants down to his thighs and licked his lips.

Sherlock almost laughed as Julien's jaw grew slack at the sight of the eager man in front of him. Sherlock knew exactly the effect Jim could have, when he was in this kind of mood.

Jim looked up through his thick lashes and smiled coquettishly. "May I?" he asked.

Julien nodded breathlessly and Sherlock turned so his lips brushed the man's ear as he purred. "Oh, he's _very_ good at this."

Jim grabbed Julien's cock with one hand, stroking gently and then looked up at Sherlock. "Condom, honey?"

Sherlock bend his knees and stuck his hand in Julien's pocket, checking for a knife, just in case. But he only found a rather ample supply of condoms, he fished one out and handed it to Jim. "There you are love."

Through this whole exchange Julien had just been staring fascinated at the hand stroking him and the tongue darting out expectantly, to moisten the eager lips in front of him. Sherlock felt himself responding to Jim's little display and pressed his erection against Julien's back, making him gasp softly.

"Perfect," Jim smiled and opened the foil using his teeth. Then with one swift stroke he had the condom on and set to work. Sherlock watched in fascination, though he knew exactly how this would play out.

Jim started with only his tongue, switching between light flicks and long slow licks from root to tip. Julien moaned and Sherlock felt an odd knot form in his stomach, sending heat and tension down through his body. He craned his neck so he wouldn't miss a single detail.

Jim looked up and caught Sherlock's eyes as he started using his lips, placing gentle sucking kisses down the sides. Sherlock's eyes darkened in lust and jealously and then he felt Julien's hand reach back to open his own trousers.

Jim saw the change in Sherlock's expression and he grinned before taking the head in his mouth, sucking gently. Julien moaned loudly and began stroking Sherlock. Jim sucked a bit harder, and then reached between Julien's legs, to place his hand over his and increase the pressure on Sherlock's cock.

Julien and Sherlock gasped at the same time. Sherlock bucked forward into their hands and Julien cried out, "God, you're amazing."

Jim hummed in acknowledgement and then shifted the angle of his head, swallowing Julien to the root. "Fuck!" he shouted and nearly bucked into Jim's mouth, his hand left Sherlock and went to Jim's head, his fingers twisting in the dark hair. Sherlock began taking off his jacket and shirt as he watched intently. Then Julien shook his head, "Stop.. you h-have to stop..."

Jim pulled off, pouting a little.

Julien took a moment to compose himself before pulling Jim to his feet, "I want to fuck you..." he growled.

Jim grinned and got on his toes so he could kiss him. "Good," he murmured against his lips. Then he pulled back and shot Sherlock a wicked grin over Julien's shoulder. "You're a lot larger than what I'm used to, but I think I can take it."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and glared at him, making Jim giggle as he was picked up and flung on the bed. Sherlock considered where he might have the best vantage point to observe and still be ready to intervene should Jim be in danger, but then his wrist was grabbed and he was pulled over to the bed. "Don't worry, I'll not leave you out," Julien grinned.

"Honey," Jim sounded a bit timid all of a sudden. "Can you hold me?" He reached out a hand to Sherlock. Reading his intentions in his eyes, Sherlock shifted to nurturing boyfriend.

"Oh course," he answered taking Jim's hand and patting it reassuringly. He settled on the bed and pulled Jim in front of him, letting him lean back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around him and stroked his chest soothingly. "Just relax, love. I got you."

This apparent display of vulnerability triggered something in Julien, and his smile became predatory as he kneeled between Jim's legs. As he started spreading lube on the condom, Sherlock leaned in and whispered in Jim's ear.

"I don't like this. He's making us too vulnerable."

Jim turned his head and replied under his breath. "Don't worry. If he wants us to climax before killing us, he'll have quite a job. You know I can hold back forever."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile with the rather vivid memories this stirred and his cock twitched, trapped beneath Jim's body, making him squirm and almost fall out of character. "Ooh, honey..." he smirked. Before turning to face Julien again, letting his lip tremble a little, his eyes wide.

Sherlock frowned as Julien grabbed Jim's arse pulling him closer and slowly started working him open with surprisingly gentle fingers. Jim whimpered a little gripping Sherlock's arms. Knowing exactly how much his lover could take, Sherlock had to bite his lip not to laugh at his acting skills.

Julien took his time, but finally he was satisfied. He repositioned himself, pulling Jim's legs up around his waist and slid into Jim in one long slow movement. Jim gasped and Sherlock watched transfixed, caught up in jealousy and lust.

"Oh God," Jim moaned letting his head fall back against Sherlock's shoulder, his eyes shot tight. Julien grinned darkly as he pulled out and then thrust back in again. Eyes closed, Jim sought out Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock kissed him passionately, keenly aware that the killer was pounding into his lover rather mercilessly.

Julien moaned loudly and looked to the detective, "Why don't you come over here and let me take care of you both?"

Jim held on to Sherlock's hands. "No, please" he whimpered. "I need him here."

Julien's expression turned dark and menacing, as he gave a vicious thrust, "I said come over here..."

Jim wrapped his legs around him, all vulnerability and playfulness melting away, giving way to his most unsettling glare. "And I said no!" Using his legs and bearing down he pulled Julien in for an even harder thrust.

Julien's eyes widened and then they darted over to the pillow beside them. Sherlock realised this must be where he was hiding the knife. And so the game of who would go first began. The killer continued thrusting as he contemplated whether or not he should just do it relaxed his body, and just took the thrusts. He was in no danger of coming and with Sherlock trapped beneath him, he considered him pretty safe too. As long as the killer stuck to his usual M.O.

Sherlock observed them both, knowing that Jim might be pushing the killer too far. Julien was becoming increasingly angry. He was slamming into Jim, all pretences at gentleness gone. Sherlock held his lover close and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, all conveying the same message: "I won't let him hurt you..."

"I know, love," Jim hissed through gritted teeth. "I know."

Sherlock saw the moment the decision happened. As Julien's hand went for the pillow, Sherlock was a fraction of a second ahead of him. Then Jim arched his back, and with his legs still around the other man's waist he twisted his body, throwing him away from Sherlock and the knife.

Sherlock got up on his knees and holding the knife in front of him, he protectively pushed Jim behind him. "We know who you are, and the police will be summoned shortly to take you in," he said feeling a little self-conscious kneeling half naked on the bed. But then again, he was the only one in the room actually wearing anything but a condom. The thought almost made him giggle, but he composed himself.

Julien lay on the floor, growling at them, surrender obviously not on his mind. Jim scrambled to his knees behind Sherlock. He watched carefully for any signs that Julien might attack, keeping his own body ready for combat.

"Jim, would you be so kind as to get my mobile?" Sherlock turned his head just a fraction, but that was enough as Julien charged.

Jim tossed Sherlock aside and launched himself forward. Sherlock was thrown off the bed and sat on the floor in a daze while Julien struggled with Jim, who almost crawled onto him, clawing viciously. Wrapping his legs around him once more, he managed to get his hands on his throat. Ignoring the fists pounding his chest, he started squeezing.

Julien punched and thrashed to get him off. His hands reached up to Jim's face, pushing him back a little as he fought for his life. Jim just kept squeezing, waiting for the other man to black out. He tilted his head back, to keep his eyes out of reach and laughed.

Finally Julien's hands slipped off of his face as his arms went limp. All the fight left him as his eyes unfocused and closed. Jim untangled himself as the man slipped to the floor. He released his grip slightly and called to Sherlock. "A little help here, please."

Sherlock tossed the knife aside and rushed to Jim. "Are you alright," he asked, concerned.

"Of course I am," Jim laughed. "Nothing like a good fight mid-coitous. Can you find something to tie him with? I suspect he won't be out for long."

Sherlock chuckled breathlessly and gathered all of their ties up to secure the Jim was satisfied he got to his feet and pushed Sherlock towards the bed. "Now let me have a look at that thing that's been poking me in the back all this time."

Sherlock grinned wickedly and let Jim throw him back, "Thank God... I was wondering when you would get to that."

Jim ripped off the rest of Sherlock's clothes and looked down. "Not so big a difference after all," he grinned as he straddled Sherlock. Slowly he sank down onto him, moaning happily. "So much better..."

"Oh god..." Sherlock cried and gripped Jim's hips, digging his fingers into the flesh. His jaw slacked as he watched his lover.

Jim started riding him slowly, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Was it difficult?" he asked. "Watching?" He tilted his hips a little. "Or was it hot?"

"B-both..." Sherlock's back arched with the pleasure, "It made me insanely jealous and rock hard at the same time.."

"I can tell," Jim pulled up, almost to the tip. Then he thrust down hard. "We gotta try that again soon."

He cried out then bucked up hard into Jim, "I'm sure we'll gain a membership..."

"Don't worry," Jim squeezed his thighs around him. "Already have one..."Sherlock grinned brightly, a lot of things making more sense now. Then he flipped them around so he was on top arching his back to hit the right spot.

"Oh yes," Jim moaned, grasping Sherlock's arms, digging his fingers in hard. "Now about the knife..." he panted.

"What... about... it..." Sherlock asked in between thrusts.

"It's kind of... oh God ... against regulations... but ... oh yes, like that ... I liked it..."

Sherlock dipped down to bite, then lick his neck, "Then you shall have it... Anything..."

Jim gasped and smiled. "That's what I love about you, y'know... always so... eager to please..."

"Only... you.." He reached between them and grasped Jim's length, stroking lightly.

Soon, they could to hear Julien waking up, moaning against the makeshift gag.

Jim giggled. "I think we have an audience."

"Good..." Sherlock grinned, "Let me show him how a real man does it.."

Jim tossed back his head in pleasure and moaned loudly. "Oh, honey, just like that." Then he looked up and grinned. "Sorry, I'm a terrible actor." Sherlock laughed and pulled him in for a kiss.

Julien growled against his binds just as Sherlock thrust right into the sweet spot of nerves and stroked Jim in time. Jim panted and bore down against Sherlock's thrusts. He let go of his control and was soon writhing and moaning.

"Come for me..." Sherlock groaned as he looked over at Julien spitefully.

Jim nodded once and then screaming Sherlock's name he came, his body trembling violently.

As he felt Jim's body clenching around him, Sherlock was thrown into his own hard climax.

Jim went limp beneath Sherlock, gasping for breath. "Brilliant," he muttered.

Sherlock panted and chuckled against him, "Made for each other..."

Jim kissed his chest lazily. "I know..." Then he pushed Sherlock off him, sat up and looked over at Julien. "Sherlock..." he said, pondering.

Julien struggled against his binds once again when Sherlock looked over. He sighed, "I suppose we should call the police..." He met Jim's eyes again, "Why don't you get out of here so you don't get caught.."

Jim got up and went over to Julien looking down, frowning. "Sherlock, are you sure you want this one questioned by the police...?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock sat up and cleaned himself off.

"Well, he could tell them quite a tale, you know..." Jim hunkered down, studying the man. "Might be a bit ... compromising..." Julien glared at him dangerously.

Catching Jim's drift, Sherlock blushed and smiled, imagining the impact of _that_ interrogation on the Met. Jim was right. They couldn't have that. Then he frowned and tilted his head, "What are you suggesting?"

Jim shrugged, avoiding Sherlock's eyes. "I could take care of him..."

He chuckled humourlessly, "How exactly would you do that?"

Jim looked blankly at Sherlock. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I'm sure _he_ doesn't," he gestured at the bound man on the floor. "But yes, tell me" Sherlock finished dressing and crossed his arms, "I'm not the saint you make me out to be."

Jim looked at him, smiling wickedly. "Then perhaps you wont mind me keeping him for a while?"

Sherlock raised his chin jealously before waving dismissively, "Fine... Do whatever you want. As far as I'm concerned I've solved the case."

"Good," Jim smiled at Julien menacingly. "I'll call for transport then." He turned to Sherlock. "Are you leaving or do you want to stick around?"

He shrugged and feigned being fine but feeling an odd sort of burning in his chest, "Case is closed... I need to eat now."

Jim hesitated, studying Sherlock. Then he mumbled: "I could take you to dinner...?"

Sherlock looked at him through the corner of his eye before looking back down, "Alright. Chinese?"

Julien sat in his corner, rolling his eyes at the hesitation between them and groaned impatiently. Jim looked over at him, as he started getting dressed. "Don't worry, you'll get your turn." Then he turned to Sherlock. "You do know, that if I buy you dinner, I'll expect you to put out afterwards, right?"

Sherlock snorted and pointed to the bed, "What do you think that was?"

Jim giggled. "I said: afterwards."

Julien muttered something about the absurdity of all this, while Sherlock laughed and nodded, "Fine fine..."

Jim smiled brightly.

"Great. You keep an eye on things here and I'll see about someone to take out the trash. Be right back." He hurried out the door, blowing Sherlock a kiss before closing it behind him.

Sherlock beamed before putting on his coat.

Julien was shouting things behind his gag, probably pleas for help or mercy but Sherlock ignored him. He sat on the bed considering his own reactions to the night's events.

Jim was back after only a few minutes. He bend over Julien and ruffled his hair. "Don't you worry," he said in a soothing voice. "Sebastian will take good care of you." Then he stood up and held his hand out to Sherlock. "Shall we?"

Sherlock took the hand and only had eyes for Jim. He would never admit how much he loved being around him. There was never boredom. Never any doubts. Because they were made for each other. He found he even enjoyed the sound of the muffled screams they were leaving behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dinner was an odd but thrilling affair. They very quickly got into a competition of who could make the most lurid references to the night's events without ever actually saying anything that would let an outsider know what they were talking about.

When two such great minds went up against each other, things quickly escalated, and they were soon reduced to hysterical giggles. The other late diners were starting to eye them suspiciously when Sherlock decided they better call it quits. He reached for Jim's hand across the table and, entwining their fingers, grinned. "Now... about that putting out thing..."

Jim jumped to his feet, tossing a rather ample amount of ten pound bills on the table and dragged Sherlock out the door. His car was waiting and he almost pushed Sherlock inside before following.

"Where to, boss?" a muffled voice sounded behind the glass dividing the passenger seats from the driver.

Jim grinned wickedly. "Baker Street," he answered.

Sherlock started to protest, but Jim cut him off as he crawled into his lap, pressing their lips together. After several minutes of rather heavy snogging, in which Sherlock found himself growing hard surprisingly quickly, Jim pulled back. "Thought it was about time you took me home to meet the folks."

Sherlock snorted. "Yeah right," he laughed. "You're just hoping to run into John. Well, you can forget it."

Jim sat up straight. "How can you think such a thing of me?" His look of hurt would probably have fooled anyone but Sherlock, who knew him well enough to know he was squirming with mirth inside. "I would never do anything to compromise your _relationship_ with your honourable flatmate."

"Jim," Sherlock chuckled. "Sometimes you're a complete arse, you know?"

"I know," Jim beamed at him. "One of my many redeeming features. Now what do you say? Let's be just a little naughty. I promise I won't do anything to come between you two."

Sherlock frowned, but then Jim made those eyes that they both knew Sherlock could not say no to. The eyes that had gotten him into this, whatever it was, in the first place.

There was no point in even pretending to object so Sherlock just sighed indulgently.

"Okay, we'll go to Baker Street, you complete nutter."

"Thank you honey," Jim leaned in and kissed Sherlock with a great amount of suction. "I promise I'll be on my best behaviour."

It was near midnight when they reached the flat, and luckily John had a shift at the clinic tomorrow, so he'd most likely have gone to bed hours ago. Still Sherlock checked that all the windows were dark before going to unlock the door.

They tiptoed up the stairs like misbehaving teenagers, competing who could distract the other one most with hands or lips. Sherlock had his hand on the door into the flat when Jim grabbed him, spun him around and shoving him up against the door kissed him forcefully. Sherlock surrendered for a minute before pushing him gently away. "You _are _aware that those stairs behind you leads straight up to John's room, aren't you?"

"Oops," Jim grinned. "Better get to your room then. Does mother let you have a lock on your door?"

"Prat," Sherlock answered with a quick kiss and then hauled Jim inside.

Lips locked together they made their way through the cluttered sitting room almost without stumbling. There was a moment of intense giggly panic when Jim accidentally knocked the skull of the mantelpiece and it clunked to the floor with a loud hollow sound. They both froze and listened, but when no sounds came from upstairs, they moved on, soon reaching the relative safety of Sherlock's bedroom.

Once inside, Sherlock pushed Jim to the bed before turning around and locking the door.

"I warn you," he growled, glaring at Jim. "You keep it down, or I swear I'll make you regret it."

Jim mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Oh no, you can forget about that too," Sherlock said. "I have got a lot of plans for that mouth of yours."

Jim's pantomime of scrambling for the 'key', and his relieved gasp as he 'unlocked' his mouth sent Sherlock giggling again, though he tried to keep it down. "You really _are_ a total nutter, aren't you?"

Jim beamed at him. "You're just full of compliments tonight, honey." He sat on the edge of the bed and reached a hand out to Sherlock. "Come here and reclaim what's yours, you beautiful genius."

Sherlock wasted no time in getting his trousers undone and with a jerk Jim pulled both them and his pants down. Sherlock's cock had been hard since the initial snog in the car and was beginning to ache. He let out a long groan of relief as Jim folded his fingers around the root and started with a long lick along the bottom.

The performance was almost identical to what he had seen at the sex club earlier that evening, except now it was his own cock being caressed by Jim's lips and tongue. He found himself smiling fondly down at his lover, gently running his fingers through his soft hair.

Suddenly he realised Jim was looking up at him, a strange look in his eyes. Sherlock quickly schooled his expression into something more lustful and appropriate for the situation. Jim frowned and then closed his eyes, as he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked gently. Sherlock too closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his mind battling between the honestly incredible things happening to his cock and the strange emotions the night's events had woken in him.

His mind thus divided, he mused how things had changed without him realising it. The first time Jim propositioned him it had been a novelty, something new and fascinating to be experienced. After that it had turned hot and passionate, increasingly so as they grew accustomed to each other's bodies, needs and capabilities. It had not just been about the sex. As they came to respect each other's minds, they had reached a kind of companionship engaging in long intellectually challenging debates often wrapped in tangled sheets and afterglow.

But tonight had unlocked something new inside of Sherlock. It had started with the strange comfortable feeling of going on a case with Jim. He was so different from John, taking initiatives and making his own deductions. It had been a thrill to see how quickly he had analysed how the killer sought out vulnerability and then put his quite extraordinary talents to work, displaying exactly what was needed.

But it was watching him surrendering to Julien's kisses, pleasuring him eagerly and most of all, lying spread out, letting himself be completely vulnerable to the other man's wrath that had really stirred something in Sherlock. Lust yes, and jealousy certainly, but also something else. Holding Jim's trembling body in his arms as the killer pounded into him, had made him feel… protective, and aching with holding back his instinct to fight off this predator who was hurting _his_ lover.

Suddenly he felt Jim pull away.

"Somehow I feel I don't have your undivided attention," he said to Sherlock sounding more than a little annoyed.

Sherlock blushed. "Oh god, I'm sorry Jim... I've just got a lot on my mind. It's not like I wasn't enjoying..."

Jim huffed and let go of Sherlock completely. He scrambled backwards on the bed, until he was sitting at the head, legs crossed in front of him.

"That wasn't exactly the effect I was aiming for," he said, his eyes narrowed.

Sherlock cursed himself. This was the last thing he wanted right now. A hurt Jim could quickly turn troublesome, perhaps even dangerous. He had made his fun in the past, bating Jim and then dominating him into submission before having his way with the slightly hysterical criminal. But tonight he didn't want combat or even games. He wanted to... he almost gasped at the realisation: he wanted to make love to Jim.

He crawled unto the bed, holding Jim's eyes with his, knowing that he'd have to be very careful now, not to push Jim over the edge. "I am sorry," he said with emphasis. "It's just, my mind was overcome with the memories of your quite magnificent performance with Julien."

Instantly he could see in Jim's eyes that this was indeed the correct approach. "Watching you like that made me so incredibly turned on, that the moment I felt your lips on my cock, it brought me back."

Jim smiled and reached his hands out for Sherlock, who hid his relieved sigh and continued forward, letting his voice drop to the levels that had just about the same effect on Jim as Jim's eyes had on Sherlock.

"I've never wanted you more in my life," he growled as he surged forward and caught Jim's lips. He could feel it happening. Jim went limp beneath him, surrendering with a small desperate moan. Just like Julien had had him. Lust surged through Sherlock making him want to take, to claim. But this was not what he intended, so he held himself back.

Having drawn Jim back from the brink of mania, he gently started working on getting him out of complete subjection. Everything was always extremes with Jim. It was part of what made him so thrilling to be with. But this time, Sherlock wanted the real man. The one somewhere in between. The dazzling genius he held in his arms after the sex was over. That was the one he wanted to have tonight.

So, with gentle hands and lips and much muttered nonsense he started drawing Jim out. Remembering the intense moment between them, when Julien had been brimming over into violence and he had promised Jim his protection, he whispered. "I'm never gonna hurt you my love, not even when you want me too."

Jim's eyes changed in a flash, from dazed weakness to intense focus. He sat up straighter and glared at Sherlock.

"What?" he asked, his voice dripping with suspicion and caution.

This was it, Sherlock thought. The moment where he might shift this thing into something more. Or he might lose him completely. He reached up a hand to gently stroke Jim's cheek, holding his eyes with his, trying to project affection and respect. "You are so special," he said, in almost a whisper. "I could never risk breaking you."

Jim chuckled, still obviously confused. "I don't break easily. I doubt you could if you tried."

Sherlock sighed, not sure if this was going to work or not. But he had to try. "I know, believe me I know. But that will not stop me from wanting to protect you, to comfort you."

Jim frowned again. "I don't need comfort..." But something in his eyes were changing. A kind of curiosity and a different kind of vulnerability. Not the calculated kind to draw out the predators that could ravage and satisfy him, but a genuine wonder at emotions that Sherlock doubted Jim had ever encountered before.

"I know you don't," he chuckled. "You are so strong. But that can't stop me from wanting to. Even if you'll never need it, I will still want to give it to you."

"What are you saying?" Jim's last guard dropped and Sherlock almost whimpered in relief. He had almost pulled it off, now he just had to say exactly the right thing. A word lurked in the back of his mind, but it was definitely not the time for that.

"I want _you_," Sherlock whispered, hoping the emphasis on the last word would convey to Jim, that he wanted _all _of him.

It was a long moment in which Jim's eyes became unreadable and Sherlock tried to keep his face from showing the panic threatening to well up inside him. Then Jim smiled, the genuine smile he only so rarely displayed and reached out a hand, stroking Sherlock's cheek.

"Oh, God," he smirked. "That was the most amazing come on I've ever heard."

Recognising the true meaning behind Jim's words, Sherlock leaned in and kissed him. Now that the real Jim was drawn out, it was okay to play. "I had to put in an extra effort after my little faux pas. Couldn't risk you refusing to shag me tonight."

"Not a chance," Jim chuckled. "I'm gonna have you in every position imaginable and a few you won't believe." He grabbed Sherlock and threw him down on the bed, settling himself on top of him. "Now let's get you unwrapped," he said as he started unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

Jim had just worked a third finger into Sherlock, their mouths locked in an almost desperate battle of lips and tongues when the sound of running water made them both freeze.

It was coming from the kitchen and was unmistakable the sound of a kettle being filled.

"Shit," Jim hissed at the same time as Sherlock muttered, "John" under his breath.

They locked eyes and both had to bite their lips not to burst out in hysterical giggles. Opting for a more effective solution, Sherlock pulled Jim down and blocked his lips with his own.

Jim laughed helplessly, but thankfully silently, into Sherlock's open mouth. Sherlock bit his lip, to signal for him to get himself under control. When Jim's laughter finally subsided they pulled apart. Both turning their eyes to the closed door, their ears straining to catch any hint of movement.

Sherlock's stomach dropped as he heard footsteps approach his door. A gentle knock followed and then John's voice soft and hesitant. "Sherlock? Are you home?"

And then something happened that sent Sherlock's mind reeling. In a perfect imitation of his own most sleepy voice Jim answered. "Yes, I was asleep."

He stared at Jim who smiled conspiratorially at him and put a finger to his lips.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Sherlock mouthed soundlessly. Jim shrugged as he listened for John's reply.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I just didn't hear you come in."

"Don't worry about it," Jim answered, still in Sherlock's voice but with a slight hint of irresistible giggling setting in.

With a stern look Sherlock clamped his hand over Jim's mouth making his eyes sparkle with mischief.

John hesitated outside the door. "Are you okay?" he asked in a concerned tone.

Sherlock cleared his throat and answered. "Yes, just very tired."

There was a pause. Then John answered. "Okay, well go back to sleep."

"I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

As John's footsteps receded back to the kitchen, Sherlock removed his hand from Jim's mouth staring at him in wonder. "You never seize to amaze me," he whispered.

"Thank you dear," Jim smirked. "I am a man of many talents."

Sherlock chuckled. "That's not what I meant..." He was about to blame Jim the risk he had taken, but then Jim reminded him he still had three fingers inside him, by wriggling them, hitting just the right spot.

"Fuck," Sherlock muttered through clenched teeth. "John is still out there, you fucking psycho."

As if he'd just been paid a great complement, Jim beamed and then whispered. "Then you'll just have to keep really really quiet."

He slipped his fingers out and quickly replaced them with his cock in one swift movement.

Sherlock had to bite something not to moan, and the closest thing being Jim's arm, he sank his teeth into it, very nearly forcing a very incriminating yelp from him.

"Behave," Jim whispered as he thrust into him. "Or I'm gonna make it impossible for you to keep quiet."

Sherlock looked as contrite as was possible while being fucked slow and deep. "Sorry," he muttered.

"That's better," Jim smiled wickedly and tilted his hips to change the angle.

Sherlock's eyes grew wide and round, "Fuck you, Jim" he hissed.

"No my love," Jim smirked. "Fuck you." And then he covered Sherlock's mouth with his own, taking care of _that_ problem.

They were both keenly aware of the sounds of John making his tea and moving about the sitting room before settling in one of the chairs. To both men, every little sound conveyed a precise image of where John was and exactly what he was doing. They kept their lips locked together as if to swallow the sounds the other was making, and they carefully paced their movements so as not to make the bed creak.

Sherlock was covered in sweat and feeling a building frustration at the torturous speed of Jim's thrusts. But at the same time he realised with more than a little wonder that this was, beyond a doubt, the hottest sex he had ever had.

He pulled out of the kiss and found Jim's eyes with his. Their gazes locked a wordless exchange passed between them and Sherlock saw Jim's astonishment as he conveyed to him the change he had felt that evening. Jim considered for a moment and then his face lit up and Sherlock actually felt tears pressing at the corners of his eyes when he saw the answer written in Jim's eyes.

Their lips found each other again, and as John got up from his chair on the other side of the door, they came together in breathless silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sherlock was lying on the couch, John resting against him, his back to Sherlock's chest. His fingers were playing gently with the fabric of John's jumper and they were both paying absolutely no attention to the documentary that sent flickering lights across the room.

"I'm sorry," John said, drawing Sherlock out of his contemplations.

"About what?" he asked, frowning.

"About not going with you to… that place." John made a disgusted face. "It's just, things like that make my skin crawl."

Sherlock chuckled. "It's not a problem. We got the guy anyway."

John twisted to look at him. "Good," he said. "Greg must be pleased."

Sherlock nodded. "I expect so," he agreed.

"Good," John repeated, turning his face back to the telly, letting his fingertips dance gently up Sherlock's arm.

..

Julien sat huddled against the wall, eyeing Jim suspiciously, as the latter sat relaxed on the floor in the middle of the room, casually dressed in t-shirt and jeans.

He smiled at the killer and said: "Oh come on, I'm sure it can't be that bad. Sebastian swore to me he was very gentle."

Julien spat on the floor. "Let me go," he hissed.

Jim laughed. "Oh no, I can't do that. First of all, you'd just go hurting more pretty little couples, that I might one day want to play with, and secondly, you could get my boyfriend in a lot of trouble with the things you could tell."

Jim's stomach did a little somersault. His 'boyfriend'? He wasn't quite sure he could call it that, but after last night the word just felt so delicious to say.

Julien snarled. "So, what are you gonna do with me?"

"That depends on you." Jim leaned a little forward. "I mean, eventually I will have to kill you, but what happens before then is entirely up to you."

Julien considered. "What do you suggest?" he asked.

Jim smiled, delighted with where this was going.

"What do you want to do?"

Julien got go his feet, looming over Jim, even at that distance. "I want to hurt you," he growled, taking a step forward.

Jim bounced to his feet. "You read my mind," he answered gleefully.

...

As Sherlock settled on his knees in front of John a brief vision of brown eyes flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away. He massaged John's thigh with one hand, while opening his zipper with the other, then he pulled down his trousers and pants slowly, John lifting a little from the sofa to help, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock looked up at John, who smiled fondly at him as he said: "You are _so _gorgeous, you know that?"

Sherlock returned the smile and then bent down to start working John's cock with his tongue. He went slowly, unconsciously employing the techniques he had watched and felt the night before.

"Christ," John moaned. "Where did you learn that?"

Sherlock blushed and quickly tilted his head so John wouldn't see. Taking him in his mouth he went back to his usual technique of sucking and slowly bobbing his head.

John chuckled and leaned back closing his eyes.

...

Jim held out his arms and laughed as Julien charged him. The first punch went to his guts making him double over, the second to his chin sent him flying back. Lying on the floor he grinned up at Julien, then switched his eyes to 'victim' and with a whimpered plea for mercy drew the other man down on him.

Soon he found himself on his knees, strong hands round his head, his mouth being fucked hard. There was no of his usual finesse in this, it was just a question of adjusting to the thrusts, avoiding any damage.

Julien had probably wondered at the blood that had been drawn from him when Sebastian brought him in. But Jim was a very cautious man. He might crave this kind of abuse, but that was no reason to risk any lasting harm. And this was sure to get messy, so better safe than sorry.

...

When John felt himself getting close he stopped Sherlock with a gentle hand. "Let's go to bed," he murmured.

Sherlock got to his feet and held out his hand. "Can we use your bed tonight?" he asked.

John frowned for a second and then nodded. He got to his feet, pulling his trousers up and closing the button. He took Sherlock's hand and pulled him in for a long slow kiss. Then they made their way up the stairs.

...

Julien picked up Jim and threw him onto the bed. This was nothing like the lavish satin-covered purple extravagance at the club, just a simple naked mattress on wooden legs. Jim scrambled up the bed, eyes wide and panicking as Julien approached, slowly removing his clothes.

Then he crawled across the bed, to Jim and with a gentle fingers caressed the bruise on Jim's chin, before throwing him down and roughly yanking his trousers off. Jim's whimper became genuine for a second as he remembered strong arms around his chest and soothing words in his ear, then he was back in the game and clawed feebly at Julien's hands in a vain attempt to fight him off.

He knew the gentle preparation Julien had done in the club had all been part of his act, so he had taken precautions. It still burned though when Julien thrust into him violently, making Jim scream in mixed pain and pleasure.

...

Sherlock was on his knees again, this time with John behind him. They moved slowly together, John's hands affectionately caressing Sherlock's back and hips, Sherlock burying his face in the pillow beneath him, trying not to think of giggles and moans silenced against his lips.

John groaned his name and then collapsed against his back. Sherlock lowered himself and then turned on his side, bringing John with him. John reached around him, grabbed his cock and started stroking him fast.

Sherlock gave in and let his mind flood with images of brown eyes and hair, a wicked grin and greedy tongue. With a cry he came, spilling onto John's sheets. As they spooned together he bit his lip, his eyes squeezed tight against the troubling ache in his chest.

...

When Julien saw the glint of steel in Jim's hand, he very nearly pulled away. But Jim had his legs wrapped firmly around him, keeping him in place. Julien recognised his own knife and then his eyes caught Jim's. After a moment's hesitation he nodded and closed his eyes. As he increased his pace, Jim rested the knife gingerly against his throat careful not to breach the skin yet. Julien's face was contorting, his climax approaching rapidly.

...

As John's started snoring, Sherlock let himself be overtaken by emotions. He gasped and had to fight not to shake. This was not good. Not good at all.

...

Bruised and covered in blood, most of it Julien's, Jim let himself slide off the bed. He reached for his trousers and carefully wiped his hands on the cloth before fishing his phone out of a pocket. With trembling hands he composed a text. He hesitated for almost a minute before hitting 'send'.

...

Very carefully, so as not to wake John, Sherlock reached for his phone. As he read the text he had to fight back a sob. He lay staring at his phone for almost five minutes. A single tear fighting its way out the corner of his eye, as he sent his reply: 'I know. I love you too.'


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sherlock was fidgeting. The last time he had been standing here, he had been facing the unknown. He had only had the most basics facts of the club's layout and clientele, he had been apprehensive about bringing Jim with him on a case and he had been facing a dangerous killer. This time he knew most of what awaited him behind those doors. The different areas, the types of people and the activities they'd be likely to engage in. He even knew what to expect from Jim. The only similarity he realised with a snort was that he would probably be facing a dangerous killer, although this particular killer happened to be the one he was in love with. Heat flushed through his chest as he thought the words. 'In love'. Over the last week, since the texts, the notion had fluttered through his mind, effectively obstructing any other thought-processes.

He had been examining a crime scene (drug related homicide) and suddenly an inner voice had shouted "Jim!" at him and he had almost forgotten where he was. It had earned him some rather baffled looks from the team present as well as a concerned frown from John. Yesterday he had been interrogating a suspect in a case about blackmail, when he had had a flashing vision of doe eyes and it had been several minutes of the other man staring perplexed at him before he realised he had been grinning like a fool.

John had of course noticed that something was off. He had been growing increasingly concerned, hovering about Sherlock, constantly asking questions and trying to observe him. Sherlock was, for once, thankful that John had never gotten the hang of 'reading' people.

He had not heard from Jim since the text and had been too baffled by the exchange himself to dare to make contact. And then, this morning, Jim had called out of the blue, asking to meet him at the club.

So here he was, feeling anxious, not just about what might happen on the other side of those doors, but also about how things would be between them now. Something important had changed, but how would it affect their relationship? Would it still be fun, sex and talks? And if not, then what?

Jim arrived on foot this time, slowly sauntering towards Sherlock, hands buried in the pockets of what looked like a vintage military trench coat. He was in the beige suit that Sherlock was rather fond of, and smiling softly as if lost in thought.

When he reached Sherlock, he pulled him close by his scarf and kissed him softly. Sherlock felt emotions welling up in him and wrapping his arms around Jim he pulled him close, deepening the kiss. Jim responded in kind and when they finally let go they were both out of breath, their cheeks flushed.

"Hi darling," Jim gasped, his eyes flashing with lust and something more.

"Hello honey," Sherlock replied and with an arm around Jim's shoulder guided him to the door. He considered that a pretty good start to the evening.

Once inside and out of their coats they made their way through the dining area. Several couples and groups tried to catch their attention, but Jim had clearly something else in mind and steered Sherlock straight for the stairs. Once upstairs he pulled Sherlock along the hall until they reached an unoccupied room. He shoved Sherlock inside so hard he stumbled and landed with a thud on the sofa. Within seconds Jim was straddling him, thrusting his tongue into his mouth.

Sherlock almost laughed at the suddenness of the onslaught but was quickly diverted by what Jim's tongue was getting up to. He surrendered and was soon finding himself being stripped by eager hands, Jim's lips still locked against his.

Sherlock suddenly realised that he was completely naked, while Jim was still fully clothed, sitting astride his lap rocking slowly against him, leaving no doubts possible as to his current state.

Sherlock himself was rock hard, and Jim's movements were only making matters worse. "What are you doing to me?" he managed to gasp against Jim's lips.

"Having my way with you, of course," Jim answered as he moved his mouth down to Sherlock's neck, sucking hard, definitely leaving a bruise. It had always been an understanding between them that Sherlock's body was to bear no traces that would be noticed by John. But Sherlock could not bring himself to object. In fact, he found himself welcoming the possessiveness of the marking.

Still he thought he ought to put up a token resistance. "Oi," he moaned. "Careful."

"Never, darling," Jim mumbled against his skin as he started kissing and biting his way across Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh, but it turned into a gasp, as Jim sucked hard on one of his nipples. "Oh, you bastard," he moaned, feeling Jim squirm with mirth in his lap. He managed to squeeze a hand between them, pressing his palm against the bulge in Jim's trousers, but it was snatched away and pressed up against the wall next to his head.

"Oh no you don't," Jim growled, moving on to the other nipple. "It's my time to play. You'll get your chance later."

Sherlock surrendered completely. Suddenly he heard a giggle and his eyes flew open. At the entrance to the room, two women and a man were standing, watching them. He recognised one of them as the first girl Jim had kissed last time they had been here. Catching Sherlock's eye, she smiled and waved at him. He was about to return the gesture, when his other hand was caught and pinned to the wall.

"Jim," he whispered, bending his head down towards him. "We've got an audience."

"Perfect," Jim responded. He tilted his hips and started grinding against Sherlock, this time hitting his cock full on with every move. "Look at them," he ordered.

Sherlock obeyed and was greeted with enthusiastic lusty grins from all three onlookers. He shifted his eyes between them, each time being caught by an intent stare. He realised that he found the whole thing incredibly arousing and that if Jim kept up his grinding, he might just ride him to climax without ever opening a single button of his own clothes.

"Fuck, Jim," he moaned. "Don't do this to me."

Jim giggled wickedly and pressed his mouth over Sherlock's. He pulled up his hands over his head, where he could secure them with one of his own and with the other reached down into his pocket. Out of the corner Sherlock glimpsed something white and then realised, that Jim had produced a handkerchief and was holding it over the head of his cock.

Understanding that Jim was simply protecting his precious suit, Sherlock almost snorted, but then Jim bore down against him fiercely at the same time, sucking Sherlock's tongue into his mouth and the combined sensations pushed him suddenly and violently over the edge. He bucked so hard that he nearly threw off Jim who kissed him hungrily through his orgasm, hanging on to his wrists while deftly catching every last drop in the handkerchief.

Afterwards Sherlock sat gasping while Jim covered his neck and chest in gentle kisses. Then he looked over his shoulder at the trio watching them. The girl from the other night waved at him and he smiled and waved back. Then he twisted around in Sherlock's lap so he ended up sitting between his legs leaning back against his chest. Sherlock's heart fluttered at the memory this evoked. Jim beckoned the girl over. With a quick nod to her companions she complied and descended on Jim with an enthusiastic kiss.

After a minute, Jim pushed her gently away. "Louise," he said. "Meet Sherlock. Sherlock, Louise."

Sherlock was about to say something when Louise leaned in over Jim's shoulder and kissed him with the same passion she had bestowed on Jim.

Again it was Jim who pulled her off. "Louise, can you help me out here?"

She looked down and then smiled eagerly. "Of course, love." Quickly she got to her knees between Jim's thighs. Without much ado she undid his trousers, slid them down along with his pants and gave Jim's cock a few long strokes. Then she reached into his pocket and produced a condom.

As she ripped open the foil with her teeth and then slid it on in one swift movement, Sherlock was struck by a sense of déjà-vu. It only increased when she started working Jim's cock with long slow movements of her tongue. Sherlock's gaze shifted to Jim, but he had closed his eyes and were leaning back against Sherlock drawing long slow breaths, a contended smile on his face.

Sherlock studied his features, having seldom seen them so relaxed. Then Jim opened his eyes and saw him looking. His eyes flashed in a way that made Sherlock's chest bubble with joy. Then Jim tilted his head a little and caught Sherlock's lips with his.

Sherlock was only vaguely aware of Louise's presence between their legs. All his attention was focused on Jim and the intensity of the kiss. In a whirlwind of lips, tongues, breath and moans, he lost himself completely. It felt like an eternity before Jim suddenly gasped, trembled and fell away from his lips.

When Sherlock's vision cleared he looked down and saw Louise smiling up at him.

"So," she said. "You're the lucky sod Jim's been rhapsodising about?"

Sherlock looked down at Jim who was leaning back against his chest, panting and looking dazed and happy. "Yes," he answered. "I suppose I am."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After Jim had recovered and Sherlock had gotten dressed they bade Louise goodbye and made their way to one of the private rooms.

Jim shrugged off his jacket and let it drop to the floor before jumping onto the bed with a satisfied moan. He turned and reached out for Sherlock who, kicking off his shoes, rushed to join him. After a long snog, Jim pulled back and sighed. "God... That girl can suck like a hoover."

Sherlock snorted. "Well, thanks a lot for sharing. Nice to know what you're really thinking about when you've got my tongue in your mouth." He pushed Jim away, pouting.

Jim giggled and grabbed him, pulling him close.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey. I'll try and give you my undivided attention."

Sherlock glared at him. "Try?" He pulled away from Jim again.

"Well, I can't promise anything can I?" Jim crawled towards him and then up along his body. "I get so easily distracted, don't I."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to work harder at keeping you focused on me," Sherlock snarled, grabbed Jim by the shoulders and flipped them both over, so he landed on top. He crushed his mouth against Jim's and put quite a lot of effort into ensuring that Jim could not possibly be thinking about anything but him.

As they finally emerged, Jim was panting. "A bit possessive are you?" he asked blushing, his eyes sparkling.

"I thought we already established that last time we were here," Sherlock said, smirking as he let himself fall back next to Jim.

"Oh yeah," Jim chuckled. "Well, if this is the result, I'd better fool around a lot more when you're here."

Sherlock punched his shoulder playfully.

Jim flinched and drew in a sharp breath. Then he launched himself at Sherlock, laughing. He settled himself across his lap and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Sherlock frowned at Jim before reaching up to pull his shirt loose from his trousers. Jim batted his hands away teasingly.

"Oh no you don't," he laughed. "Tonight I do all the unwrapping."

Sherlock pretended to surrender but kept his eyes on Jim, watching how he moved and the faint flush to his cheeks that wasn't just arousal. He decided it was time for a little distraction.

"Your friend," he said. "The… hoover..."

Jim snorted as he pulled Sherlock's shirt off his shoulders. "Louise," he corrected him.

"Louise," Sherlock amended before he continued. "There was something very familiar about her approach..."

Jim smirked, sliding his hands over Sherlock's chest, flicking his nipples with his thumbs as they passed, making Sherlock gasp. "You noticed?"

"How could I not? Anyway, I was wondering: who taught who?"

Jim giggled, sounding uncannily like a teenage girl. "We kind of worked it out together."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes. We go back a very long way, and once we were sharing this very surprised Swedish sailor and we got… creative."

Sherlock had a vivid mental image or a much younger Jim and Louise, squeezed shoulder to shoulder between a naked pair of thighs, giggling and whispering while taking turns at a large erect cock. The arousal that hit him, took his breath away.

"Maybe," he gasped. "We could try a re-enactment."

The hunger with which Jim kissed him was a clear indicator for his enthusiasm for _that_ idea.

Sherlock slid his hands down Jim's back, as discretely as possible took hold of his shirt with both hands and then in one sudden move, pulled it up over his head.

His arms trapped in his sleeves Jim squirmed indignantly. "Oi, what are you doing?"

But the look on Sherlock's face made him cringe.

Jim's arms, chest and shoulders were covered in large, half-healed bruises. He tried to pull the shirt back on, but Sherlock grabbed it, effectively pinning his arms down.

"What happened?" he asked.

Jim wouldn't meet his eyes as he answered: "Julien."

Sherlock frowned. He thought Jim had taken care of Julien. That he'd had him killed, perhaps tortured first.

"How?" he asked.

Jim pulled his hands out of the shirt, that Sherlock was still holding on to. He crawled off Sherlock and made his way to sit on the edge of the bed, his back to Sherlock, revealing a long abrasion running from his shoulder blades to his waist.

"I... had some fun with him."

Sherlock followed him, carefully placing his hand on a slightly discoloured shoulder. "Jim," he said. "This does _not_ look like fun."

Suddenly Jim whirled around, his eyes flashing with anger. "To me," he hissed. "This _is_ fun."

Sherlock recoiled. This was a side of Jim he had rarely seen and certainly not in the time they had been together. He found himself clambering backwards on the bed, needing to put some distance between them.

Jim tore his shirt from Sherlock's limp hand and got up with a huff. He turned away as he began dressing, his shoulders slumped, his head down. When he picked up his jacket and headed for the door, Sherlock realised he was leaving and he rushed to him, grabbing his wrist and turning him around.

"Don't!" he commanded, and then seeing the pain in Jim's eyes, he added, pleadingly. "Please, don't leave like this."

Jim deflated completely and suddenly sank down on the floor, his back against the door.

"I didn't want you to see..." he said in a small voice. "You weren't supposed to know..."

Sherlock crouched down in front of him. With gentle fingers he lifted Jim's chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"Don't hide from me," he said. "Explain it."

Jim looked down and huffed in frustration. "I can't," he answered.

"Try." Sherlock would not let him go. He kept looking at him until Jim finally met his eyes again.

"Okay," he said. "I'll try."

…

They lay on the bed. Sherlock was propped up against the wall, Jim resting against his chest once again. Sherlock's arms were wrapped around him, and Jim's eyes were closed as he spoke. "It's not what you might think. I'm not reliving some childhood abuse or anything like that. It's just the way I am. Letting someone hurt me like that gives me peace. It helps me think straight afterwards. My mind never works better than when my body is in pain. And frankly I get off on it. It's either a question of me being hurt or me hurting someone. And these days, I can't risk that happening."

Sherlock considered this. "So," he finally said. "You let him hurt you, so you wouldn't hurt me?" He cringed at the burning sense of guilt this thought brought along.

Jim shook his head. "It's not as simple as that. I needed the pain, the violence, the… abuse, to be able to focus. To feel." He bit his lip, not wanting to reveal this, but feeling like he owed it to Sherlock. "The text I sent you. It was after..." he hesitated but a gentle squeeze from Sherlock's arms encouraged him. "It was after this." He gestured vaguely at his chest.

Sherlock barely had time to consider the implications of this, before Jim hastily added: "I meant it. What I wrote. I just needed the release first, to be able to admit it. Even to myself."

Sherlock thought about it. He didn't understand it, but considering the circumstances under which he had received that text, he couldn't really hold this against Jim.

"It's okay, love," he whispered in Jim's ear. "I understand."

But he didn't understand. And he was not going to accept it. He vowed to himself that he would end this. That if it was up to him, Jim would never do anything like this to himself. Ever again.

_(I will be putting this story on hold for a while, focusing on some of my other projects. I will, however, return to it in the hopefully not too distant future, as I am definitely not finished with these two and this thing they have, whatever it is.)_


End file.
